


One Year

by YurikoNeko (AlaxxisSade)



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Birthday, Drama, Existential Crisis, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Growing Old Together, M/M, is this too much drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4498848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaxxisSade/pseuds/YurikoNeko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Yuuri's birthday, but he doesn't seem too happy. And if there's one thing Wolfram wants, it's for Yuuri to be happy.</p><p>[Belated birthday fic for Yuuri!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Year

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo~ Yuuri-heika's birthday was on the 29th of June, but I sorta missed it until Red Glasses Girl reminded me, hehe... And then it took longer than I expected to write this orz 
> 
> And it ended up being more about Wolfram...

It’s Yuuri’s birthday today.

                Or at least, Wolfram is fairly sure it is. The mazoku calendar doesn’t count time quite exactly the same way they do on earth, since there is a seventh month but also 577 years in one zodiac cycle. No one is quite sure which zodiac year Yuuri belongs too, but Wolfram sort of decided that the Bearbee year would fit him best.

                Ahem, back to the point.

                They are supposed to celebrate together, Wolfram huffs, but as usual, Yuuri is late. Maybe he got the date wrong? Unease gnaws at his mind. All Yuuri said was, “I’ll come back on my birthday after celebrating with my family, I promise!”  And since the calendars don’t sync up, the only way Wolfram knows it’s today is by asking Ulrike when Yuuri is coming back.

                Maybe something happened, and he had to come back before his birthday? Wait, what if he changed his mind and went out with some hu—someone else instead?

                Wolfram’s mind is running off again, and he catches it just in time to watch the fountain bubble. A familiar black head bursts out, and Wolfram hastens to plaster on a smile, hiding his present behind his back. Uh-oh, he’s starting to wonder if Yuuri will like it. What are you thinking, of course he will! Calm down, act natural—

                “Happy bi—”

                He’s abruptly cut off when Yuuri suddenly throws his arms around him.

                “Yeah, thanks, Wolf. I’m home.”

                There’s something odd about Yuuri’s voice. The young king has buried his face into Wolfram’s shoulder, not even caring if his dripping clothes are getting Wolfram wet too.

                “Yuu--?”

                “Your Majesty! You must not get cold!”

                Wolfram is interrupted again, this time by Günter, who practically pounces onto Yuuri with a towel. When Yuuri looks up, his expression is his usual grateful smile, and he accepts the towel, though not Günter’s embrace.

                “Your Majesty, we have prepared…”

                “Later, okay? For now, can you tell me where Greta is?”

              “E-eh? The princess is having her classes with Ani— Your Majesty! Wait! Your clothes, let me take off your clothes~”

                That Günter--! Wolfram’s face is twitching, but his concern for Yuuri quickly quashes his annoyance with Lord von Christ. Something is definitely wrong with him…

                “Hey, you. What happened to my fiancé?”

                “You know, Lord von Bielefeld, talking to you reminds me of my first real meeting with Yuuri sometimes. More specifically, the bullies—Ah, I mean, the stroke of fate that brought us together.”

                Sometimes Wolfram wonders if they will ever truly get along.

                “Just answer the question.” He grits his teeth. “Please.”

                Murata’s smile is smug, though his eyes are – annoyingly—hidden behind his glasses. Again. “What happened, you ask? Why, his birthday, of course.”

                Wolfram frowns. “Aren’t birthdays supposed to make someone happy?” Greta sure enjoyed the past few birthdays they spent together, and Yuuri keeps trying to celebrate his, though Wolfram, like most mazoku, doesn’t really see what the fuss is all about. “That definitely wasn’t happy.”

                “Ah, don’t worry about it. Shibuya’s grown up, that’s all. That’s how adults react to their birthdays.”

                And that is all Murata would say about it.

 

Those cryptic words continue to haunt Wolfram throughout the birthday banquet. It’s a huge affair—after all, this is the first time the country has celebrated a monarch’s birthday in, well, ever.

                Like Wolfram said, it’s no big deal to mazokus. Until Yuuri came along.

                Time passes in a blink of an eye to mazoku, and birthdays are something only kids look forward to. That hasn’t changed in centuries, and won’t change because of Yuuri. Yet, the banquet is filled with chatter and laughter, and the streets are lined with celebrations— because it’s Yuuri’s birthday. Because it means that their king has stayed on the throne for a whole earth year, and because he’s still here, and he’s better than anyone could have dreamed of.

                It’s a celebration of him.

                Yuuri’s the only one who doesn’t understand it, though, Wolfram thinks. He watches the double black boy – almost a man now – dart from one guest to another like a social butterfly. The way Yuuri’s going, it’s almost like he’s rushing, racing against something. He runs over there to talk to Lady Flynn, and to the other end of the hall to chat up Beatrice. Even Conrad is having a hard time keeping up, and when he does catch up, all Yuuri does is ask him where Josak is.

                Something’s very wrong.

                “Yuuri, you know you can tell me anything.”

                Wolfram asks patiently once they’re back in their room and ready for bed. Yuuri’s back stiffens, and when he turns around the smile on his face would look obviously forced to anyone who knew him. “Huh? Is there anything I should tell you? Ah, have I thanked you for the present? Thanks, Wolf, if I ever want to pick up painting, I’ll definitely use those 108 High Quality Bearbee paints… though I didn’t know that there were so many different colors, or so many smells… Ehehe…”

                He’s still a bad liar. Wolfram looks at him with those large green eyes so intently that Yuuri eventually has to break eye contact. Neither of them say anything. After all, Wolfram knows by now that he shouldn’t force Yuuri every time, even if he does love him. But when Yuuri turns his back to him, on the far-end of the bed that seems even bigger than usual, he can’t help but feel a little lonely…

                “Wolf. Just tonight?”

                When Yuuri sneaks up behind him and wraps his arms around Wolfram’s waist, sleeping with his head buried into Wolfram’s back, Wolfram finally realizes that he prefers the loneliness over the strange, worrying way Yuuri is acting now.

 

“You’re going somewhere in a hurry.”

                Wolfram strides down the corridors briskly, glancing sideways at his brother, who just sauntered out from a branch in the hallways to join him, step for step. “You’re looking pretty rushed yourself.”

                “Oh, really? I thought I always walk at this speed.” Judging from the way the scenery is zipping by, Conrad is lying through his teeth again. “By the way, did you miss morning training? Your back looks stiff.”

                …So would yours, if you held your spine straight as a stick all night.

                “Captain, Lord von Bielefeld.” Gurrier joins them in their faster-than-a-run walk, turning around the corner so quickly it sent maids’ skirts flying. And yet, he still finds the time to give the girl with strawberries an appreciative thumbs-up. “Off to see His Eminence? I didn’t think he was so popular, there goes my lunchtime appointment with him…”

                “It’s not like I want to see him!” Wolfram snaps. “It’s Yuuri…”

                Conrad’s voice is tight. “His Majesty has been acting odd this morning…”

                “And he’s been quiet…”

                “He went off to see Greta again immediately after training…”

                “He looks at me all weirdly, almost sadly!”

                “He wouldn’t look at me at all…”

                “He held me to sleep yesterday!”

                Everyone screeches to a halt.

                “Well…” Josak clears his throat, but he can’t quite hide his grin. “I’m sure His Eminence heard all of that, so let’s see what he has to say, huh?”

                And he throws open the doors to Murata’s room.

                “You soldier lots sure get up early,” is the Sage’s wistful manner of greeting. “Can’t you let me finish my coffee first?”

                “It’s not good for you.” Wolfram snatches the cup out of his hands and all but slams it onto the table. “Just spit it, what’s the matter with Yuuri?!”

                “Like I said, it was his birthday yesterday…”

                “We know that!” Wolfram knows he shouldn’t be yelling, but he’s been having this horrible, sinking feeling about the way Yuuri is behaving.

                Conrad seems to agree, his expression positively stormy and honestly rather intimidating. Even his brother has to resist from taking a step back. “As long as it’s to do with Yuuri, I won’t leave anything to chance.”

                “Now, now, the mothers hens are overreacting again~”

                “You talking about yourself, Gurrier?” The look on Murata’s face is undoubtedly amusement. “If I recall correctly, you were away yesterday on a job, weren’t you? It’s too bad you couldn’t get back in time for the party, but I was under the impression you planned on sleeping until tomorrow, at least.”

                “That’s not good for you, either,” Wolfram can’t help but nag. It’s become something of a habit, that comes with having a teenage daughter. “But garh, that’s not what we’re here to talk about!”

                “He kept asking for you yesterday,” Murata continues nonchalantly, as though he didn’t hear Wolfram at all. “Well, he was looking for and talking to everyone, but he wanted to find you specifically.”

                Everyone but me, Conrad mumbles almost inaudibly. This time, it’s Wolfram turn to ignore him. “See? There’s obviously something off here!”

                “Is there? I thought he was always a people person…”

                “It’s not that!” Wolfram is shouting, in spite of himself. “The way he’s so desperate to talk to everyone--” (Except me, says Conrad again, but no one bothers) “—that look of… of melancholy that’s so unlike him! It’s almost like—”

                Wolfram’s voice catches as he realizes. “Almost as though he’s dying.”

                Murata tilts his head, his glasses reflecting Wolfram’s despair. “Bingo.”

                A lot of things happen in that instant. The cup is swept off the table and shatters. Wolfram falls into a chair, Conrad jumps to his feet, but Josak gets there first. He lifts Murata up by the collar, as easily as a child would a kitten.

                “Explain.” Those blue eyes are cold.

                There’s a moment of silence as Murata’s black eyes meet that endless blue, and then – in that pindrop silence—he starts to laugh.

                Wolfram feels the heat rise to his face, blurring his eyes and mind. “If this is your idea of a sick joke…” His hand has gone instinctively to his sword, and no one seems to want to stop him.

                “No, it’s true,” Murata chuckles again. “He’s dying. Which one of us isn’t? That’s what life is, dying slowly, right?”

                Josak drops him suddenly, and he bounces back onto his chair with an ‘oomph’. It didn’t look comfortable, and Josak definitely didn’t mean it to be, but Murata still seems to find the situation funny.

                “And here I was, thinking that Shibuya has outdone himself on the overreacting part this time. This is what they mean by ‘birds of a feather’, then? Relax, sheesh. He’s just in the middle of an existential crisis.”

                “An exis—axis…” Wolfram frowns and gives up. “Okay, so what’s this crisis? It sounds fancy, so is it serious?”

                “Serious?” Murata contemplates it. “You could say so. Basically, being a year older got Shibuya thinking about growing up, growing old, time, all that shmuck.”

                Wolfram’s frown deepens. “Why would he be worrying about all that, he’s not even twenty!” Then he bats Josak away impatiently when the latter tries to smooth out his “wrinkles”.

                “And how old would that be in mazoku years?” Murata drums his fingers on his armrest. “Shibuya was never that good at Maths, but you should have seen him trying with his calculator. And we’re still not exactly sure how time passes between the worlds, after all.”

                “It’s ridiculous,” Wolfram scoffs. “Even if time moves slower there, here he’s aging just as a mazoku would, and we mazoku live for centuries—”

                “Exactly.” Murata’s fingers make one last, loud tap against the wood. “It’s normal to you, and it’s how the way his body is growing, but mentally he’s still not used to that much time. And then there are his human friends. Did you see Lady Flynn yesterday? I won’t divulge a lady’s age, but she’s obviously--”

                Gurrier coughs politely, and Murata catches the hint.

                “—Beatrice is almost a woman now, and then there’s…” He pauses, glancing at Wolfram. “Greta.”

                The name, that thought, pierces Wolfram’s heart like a knife. Their human daughter won’t live as long as them. Both of them know that, but both of them have been trying to ignore it. It’s getting harder, though, especially as she’s almost as tall as her fathers now in heels.

                “Yesterday was the first birthday he spent without his brother.”

                Murata picks up another cup and pours himself some more coffee. “Of course, that’s just because Shibuya Shouri has gone to America with his girlfriend for college, but it still shows that time has passed. Is passing. And Shibuya does look obviously younger than most of his friends, though I’m pretty sure that’s just his baby face.”

                Wolfram has gone silent. Conrad hasn’t said a thing in a long time, but Murata can see the same thought in both their hearts. As expected of brothers.

                “You’re thinking, ‘So what?’, aren’t you? You want to tell him it’ll be okay, because he’ll always have you.” Murata takes a long draft, savoring the lukewarm liquid. “How long is the mazoku life expectancy again? On earth, we can live anywhere from 60 to 80, maybe even 100 years, if you’re lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it. Multiply that by five, and remember that maous tend to live longer lives.”

               He looks at them, his eyes no longer hidden, and meets their gazes one by one. “I know how important he is to you, and you know how important you are to him. Now step in his shoes for a while, and try to imagine living for 200 years after one of you is gone.”

 

The atmosphere in the castle is heavy, but most people can’t quite put their finger on why. His Majesty is back, and as lively as ever, but one just has to look at Lord Weller to know something’s not right.

                _“He was looking for Gurrier and_ not _looking at Lord Weller, you say? Hmm… I suppose that’s because he lost both of you before. He wants to remind himself Gurrier is still here, and since Lord Weller is always there, he doesn’t like remembering how it felt to lose him.”_

Wolfram is unusually quiet, too, watching his fiancé teach their daughter that earth language. Greta recently gained an interest in languages, and swears to be the first mazoku to learn Seisakoku, so Yuuri jumped at the opportunity to share more of his other world with her.

                He’s still a human in his mind, huh… I wonder, how does he look to the next couple of centuries?

                Wolfram shakes his head. He’s never thought about it before; he has a feeling most of the people around here haven’t. To dream about growing old is a luxury, one afforded by the peace Yuuri fought so hard for, is still fighting to defend.

                “Wolf?” Greta turns to him while Günter consults Yuuri with some paperwork, her red-brown eyes filled with worry. “Did something happen to Yuuri?”

                “He’s just having an axistensial crisis.” Wolfram is about to wave her off, just as he nearly did the idea of such a thing, when it hits him just how much she has grown. This isn’t the child who first entered the castle in despair, or the one who was so excited to get matching nightdresses. Wolfram still wears his, but she has long outgrown hers.

                And suddenly, randomly, Wolfram is angry. So they don’t have a lot of time with this daughter. They know that when they first took her in, first gave her their hearts. Everyone in the country knew that when they recognized her as their princess, and loved and respected her as such. So why is Yuuri wasting that precious time making her worry?

                Humans have such short lives, and still find so many ways to waste them.

                “Yuuri!”

                He takes Yuuri by the hand and forcefully drags him out of the hall.

                “W-Wolf? H-hey, hold on! Wolf!”

                “You never listen to a thing I say, so why should I listen to you?”

                “W-what do you mean? Of course I listen to you!”

                “But how much of it actually gets into you thick skull?”

                “Hey, that’s not nice! My skull is not thick, I wear helmets to practice!”

                “Then that means every time we ask you to stay put and you go off running again, you understand what we’re saying and _choose_ to ignore it?”

                “W-well… Most of the time you’re the one pulling me off somewhere! Just like you are now!”

                “Th-that was a long time ago!”

                _“No, it’s not!”_

                They stop, Yuuri throwing aside Wolfram’s hand.

                _“It’s not long ago, it was only a year!”_

                Wolfram frowns, at Yuuri and at himself. “It was one earth year, Yuuri, over here it’s been—”

                _“Don’t say it!_ ” Yuuri claps his hands over Wolfram’s mouth, but his face is still lowered, his hair covering his eyes even as he yells, “I don’t want to know how much time has passed!”

                He’s like a girl who refuses to count any time after her sixteenth birthday… Wolfram sighs, taking Yuuri’s hands. “Yuuri, you’re being ridiculous.”

                At those words the young king finally looks up, his eyes red but with fury. “You don’t understand--!”

                “No, I don’t!” Wolfram snaps back. “I don’t understand why you’re dwelling on the future so much you can’t even see what’s happening now! I don’t understand how whatever happens later will change what happened before!”

                Yuuri blinks, too confused to be angry anymore. This wimp… He never could stay angry for long. But then again, Wolfram can’t quite comprehend what he just said either.

                “What I mean is--” He pulls his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “—Sure, dying sounds scary. It’s just that, as soldiers, I guess we don’t give much thought about it, because we never know when we might die. If we spend all our time wondering and worrying when and how we’ll die, then can we really call that living?”

                Wolfram looks at his dumb-founded fiancé disapprovingly. “I thought you of all people would understand that. You’re always doing all you can, making the most of all your time, trying your best to leave your mark. Once you’ve done all that, who cares when you die?”

                “I don’t care about me…” Yuuri averts his eyes, but his voice is still shaking. “I’m just… No. You know what, you’re right. I’m being ridiculous.” He raises his face again, smiling so brightly it hurt Wolfram’s heart. “I’m overthinking things again, aren’t I? Besides, all of us will go to that stadium in the sky eventually, haha, and nothing I do can stop that. Urk, wait, do mazoku…”

                “Idiot.”

                “Eh? That’s a new one…”

                Wolfram throws his arms around Yuuri’s neck, pressing his hand to the back of his head. “So what if we’ll all die someday? I told you, I won’t die until we’re married, but now I’ll go further than that. You’re so cute the way you are now, but I want to see you when you’re old, when you have wrinkles just like Gwen, when your hair is no longer black but white…”

                He pulls apart and meets Yuuri’s glistening gaze, then bursts out laughing. “But at least these eyes will stay the same!”

                “Mn.” Yuuri buries his face into Wolfram’s shoulder again. “I want to see an old Wolf, too. But you probably won’t have any wrinkles, or white hair. You won’t go bald, either…”

                Wolfram raises an eyebrow at that. “What, will you?”

                “W-well, they say it runs in the family, and my grandpa…” Yuuri peeks at his fiance carefully. “Would you mind?”

                “Hmph. Do I look like someone who would mind to you?” And even if he does go bald, I can always ask Anissina to make a wig for him. As long as I don’t ask where the hair comes from…

                Yuuri seems to read his expression, and chuckles, his voice a little choked. “As I thought… But ah, Wolf will definitely be beautiful, even with wrinkles or white hair or no hair. And then I’ll be embarrassed to show my face around you…”

                “Nonsense! Even when your back is so bent your nose knocks onto your knees, I’ll still take you out to town! I’ll hold your hand if I have to, and I’ll be proud of it!” And of course he takes this chance to subtly take Yuuri’s hand.

                “Is that so?” Yuuri notices, of course, but he just smiles, very happy and a little sad, squeezing that fair yet calloused hand back. “Then no more talk of dying, soldier or not.”

                “A soldier must never let his king die before him.” His king is still too soft, still too attached to the men who are supposed to be protecting him, and not the other way around. But Wolfram supposes that’s why the people love him, and the soldiers are willing to stake everything for him. It’s why Wolfram loves him, and would give everything, anything for him. To him. Including the words he needs to hear. “But as your fiancé, I won’t leave you behind. And even if one of us has to go first, we will never be truly apart. Not here.”

                He pokes Yuuri’s chest teasingly, and is surprised when Yuuri takes that hand in both of his.

                “Wolf…” His black eyes are so soft, as deep as liquid darkness, that Wolfram feels as though he’s going to melt in them. “Thank you.”

                Wimp, Wolfram wants to say, that’s not what I want to hear, and you know that. But his heart is doing backflips anyway.

                “It’s a deal. Whatever happens, we’ll always have each other. And…” Yuuri hesitates, Wolfram forgets how to breathe. “I-I think… I lo—”

                “Yuuri!” Greta bursts out from the hall and into Yuuri’s arms. “I heard from Conrad—It’s okay, Yuuri, you don’t have to worry about me, I’ll always be you and Wolfram’s daughter, no matter how old I get, and I—I--Uwaa!”

                Yuuri hastily consoles his sobbing daughter, and Wolfram looks at both of them with fond exasperation. Like father like daughter, huh? And those words that he has been waiting so long to hear…

                He puts his arms around his family gently, whispering comfort into their daughter’s ear.

                It’s okay. They have time.

**Author's Note:**

> ...Is this too dramatic? Tell me honestly, is this too much drama and existential stuff and preachy and dhjkhhfgsdflkh
> 
> ...I should write more. More funny stuff. If I get the time. ...I'll never get the time *sob*
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: So now there's this wonderful fanart of this fic by Sasabu, and I hafta say, I've never felt such honor T^T Thank youuuu, and so that no one misses it in the comments, here's the link!
> 
> http://nabaris.tumblr.com/post/151632950222/a-fanart-i-made-after-reading-the-fic-one-year-by


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